


Spring Planting

by ruby2



Category: Firefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-24
Updated: 2004-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-29 11:05:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14471316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruby2/pseuds/ruby2
Summary: Ever wonder how Zoe and Wash met?





	Spring Planting

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

Spring Planting

## Spring Planting

Zoe stepped out of Serenity's warmth into the desert's early morning coolness. In one hand she balanced a large steaming mug of coffee. In the other, she gripped a pair of ancient binoculars. She walked Serenity's perimeter slowly, scanning the horizon deliberately. In town, they had said in terrified whispers that the Gong Wang gang was terrorizing settlers on the edge of the desert. Best to be alert. A complete 360 degree scan assured her that the desert around Serenity was empty of human life. 

For now. But since they had fallen out of the sky more than a week ago, she knew that Serenity was a great big target for any land pirates looking for quick salvage. And they were undermanned. As she dropped the binoculars to her side, a slight sound suddenly caught her attention. It sounded like ... scratching. Zoe was instantly alert. She dropped soundlessly to the ground. A moment later, she started crawling in the direction of the sound, drawing her pistol as she came nearer. 

"Morning, Zoe," came a familiar voice. "Best put that away before you give me another hole in my head. Think I've got enough of those as it is." 

Zoe holstered the gun and stood up. The rays of Persephone's early morning sun revealed Captain Malcolm Reynolds kneeling in the desert dirt. He was scratching some shallow trenches in the desert soil with a serving spoon from the galley. 

"Sir, what are you doing?" asked Zoe. 

"Well, Zoe, it's spring, so I am planting me some vegetables," said Mal. He looked with satisfaction at his handiwork, then shoved the spoon into a back pocket. He carefully extracted a small envelope from his breast pocket and shook the contents into his palm. 

"The shopkeeper in town was giving away some free seed samples. Said there were different kinds of seeds here, but everything was specially suited for this climate." He dropped the seeds into the shallow furrows, covered them over and unslung his canteen from his shoulder. 

Zoe watched him carefully watering the ground. "Sir, even if those seeds are any good, we won't be here long enough to harvest anything. We should be on our way in a few weeks." 

Mal stood up, dusting off his knees and hands. "You're probably right, Zoe. But I'm not sure how long we'll be here, between getting Serenity up and running and looking for a real pilot. And besides, even though it's not commonsensical, sometimes a man's just got to go and try to plant himself a beanstalk, you know?" 

"Soldiers don't plant, sir," answered Zoe. Now, if Mal had wanted her to shoot the beanstalk... 

"True. But I'm not soldier anymore, Zoe. None of us are," answered Mal. 

"I see sir," said Zoe, though she didn't see at all. 

* * *

"Stop right there, mister," came the authoritative command. "Raise your hands above your head and turn around... slowly. Do not try anything, or I WILL hurt you." 

The brightly dressed figure froze in mid-stride for a moment. When he realized that the voice was that of a woman, he relaxed and chuckled to himself. 

"Hey, look, this is all a mistake. I'm not here looking for any shenanigans. This is guy stuff. Captain Reynolds asked me to come look at the ship to see if..." he spun around quickly as he spoke. That was a mistake. 

A black-gloved fist came out of the clear blue atmosphere and connected with his chin. There was a sensation of falling and the world went dark for a moment. 

When the world came back, he felt his chin. From the force of the blow, he must have been hit by a man imitating a woman's voice. Or one of those iron-pumping lesbians. He opened his mouth to speak, but squeaked instead as something heavy and cold was shoved against his chest. 

"This gun says that I'll do the thinking around here, mister," said a voice near his ear. "So why don't you stand back up and we'll try this again." 

He struggled to his feet. 

"Put your hands above your head and hold real still while I frisk you." 

He raised his hands and turned to face his tormentor. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he saw her, he forgot all about speaking. Merciful God in Heaven, please don't let that be a lesbian, he thought. And he found his spirits (and other things) lifting at the thought of the word "frisk". He supposed there were worse things than to have a gorgeous Amazon rummaging through your pants. The more he thought about it, the more flustered he got. 

She spun him around and he felt a pair of quick, light hands frisk him expertly. The feeling of those hands running down his chest and arms was quite... stimulating. The hands seemed to hesitate slightly in the region of his boxer shorts. She couldn't really overlook that area now, could she? He could have a weapon in there. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment. 

When she was finished, she spun him around again. He had a stupid grin plastered on his face. 

"State your business, mister," she commanded. 

He couldn't stop smiling. "I'm sorry, can I have a cigarette now?" he joked. 

The Amazon flushed a deep red. Wash instantly regretted his words. "Sorry. Ask anybody, I have a tendency to make jokes... bad jokes. As I was saying, Captain Reynolds asked me to come by today and take a look at his ship. I'm a pilot. Name's Wash." 

"Wash?" asked Zoe with a hint of scorn. "Not much of a name." 

"True, it's only part of a name. Short for Washington. A kind of a family name," he explained. "But three syllables is too much, so my friends call me Wash. I mean, what kind of a name is `Washing' for a man?" 

Without taking her eyes off him, Zoe took a small walkie-talkie out of her pocket and thumbed it open. 

"Sir, there's a man down here, claiming to be a pilot. Said you had asked him to drop by. Gives his name as Wash," she said. 

"Holy shit, that's the pilot that Luddenham sent over." Mal's voice crackled over the device. "I didn't know he was coming by today. You didn't take his head off, did you Zoe?" 

"Not yet, sir, but I'm more'n willing to. Just give the word," replied Zoe. 

"No need, Zoe. Stand down. I'll be right there," replied Mal. 

Zoe pocketed the walkie-talkie. "Lucky for you the Cap'n remembers you." 

"You really don't like visitors, do you?" said Wash. "Too bad, because if word got out that there was a gorgeous woman like you around here giving free hand j... I mean, patting men down, well, that could really generate some traffic." 

This time Zoe didn't blush, but she narrowed her eyes and looked at Wash with what might have been thinly disguised disgust. It was fortunate for him that Mal appeared about that time. 

* * *

"Yep, looks promising," said Wash, hauling himself out from under the main steering console. "You've got a nice ship here, Captain Reynolds. Very nice," he said, ogling Zoe, who narrowed her eyes and turned her back on Wash. "Good lines. Very attractive." 

Mal looked at Zoe and then Wash. "We are talking about the ship, right?" he asked. 

"Huh? Oh yeah, the ship," replied Wash. "Sure... the ship. Definitely." 

"So does a job flying her hold any appeal for you?" asked Mal. 

"Appeal? Yes, appeal. Oh, yes, lots of appeal," said Wash, maintaining a straight face with difficulty. "Flying her. Yes. Undoubtedly." 

* * *

Mal and Zoe were heading away from the bridge where they had left Wash, who was still poking around. 

"He's great, ain't he?" asked Mal. 

Zoe shrugged her shoulders. "I don't like him. Something about him bothers me." 

Mal was taken aback. "Well, your "something" comes up against a list of recommendations long as my leg. Tanaka raved about the guy. Renshaw's been trying to get him on his crew for a month. And we need us a pilot." 

"I know, sir. There's something about him that I don't like." 

"Well, good pilots don't just grow on trees. We've been looking for awhile. And by the way, what happened down there between you and him? He's acting as if he's smitten with you." 

"Nothing happened, sir. I just... frisked him. I guess he just took it the wrong way," said Zoe. Suddenly, her cheeks were hot. 

"You frisked him? That's all?" 

"Yes, and he... kinda enjoyed it." She hung her head. 

Mal looked at her with astonishment. "Soldier, are you blushing?" he asked, suddenly choking with suppressed laughter. "I didn't think you were susceptible to a man's... favors. Hell, what kind of thing did he have in those drawers of his, anyway?" 

"Don't make it any worse than it already is, sir," replied a glum Zoe. "Besides, I'm fairly certain you don't want to know." 

* * *

December 2, Alliance Treaty Day, was, as usual, a quiet day. Repairs were dragging on endlessly, but Zoe knew it was better to make definitive repairs on the ground and than to fall out of the sky like a dead bird. 

Mal had shut himself in the cargo bay. He said that he was doing inventory, but Zoe knew better. He was re-living the surrender. Zoe didn't like dwelling on the past, but some things were darn near impossible to forget. She thought she might clean her weapons, but looking at them reminded her of...everything that should be forgotten. So, since they were in the world, Zoe decided to do something that she rarely did. 

Zoe plopped her purchases down on the counter and unwrapped the fish she had just bought. The fish monger had scooped it out of the tank not long ago and clubbed it on the head to subdue it slightly before wrapping it in waxed paper. "Fish should be alive when you cook," he had admonished in Chinese. 

Zoe had chosen fish for dinner, because the Chinese word for "fish" was the same as the word for "plenty." But in defiance of Chinese tradition, Zoe chose to cut the fish into bite-size blocks. She knew a superstitious person would say she was "cutting her luck" by doing so, but she wanted to make fish stew and you couldn't make that with whole fish. 

She had helped her mother make this dish so many times as a child that it was second nature to her. She chopped, then sauted onions, and garlic. Then she added the seasonings, the broth, and the vegetables. 

While the vegetables were cooking, she went down to the garden. Some of the herbs that Mal had sown a few weeks ago had already matured. Zoe bent down among the flowering plants and breathed in their fragrance. God, she had missed this! This connection with things; with the earth; with life. 

She picked some of the more fragrant herbs that were growing there. They would do for flavoring the stew. When she was satisfied with the flavor of the stew, she added the fish chunks. Just five more minutes of cooking and the stew would be done. She pulled out a loaf of fresh bread and started slicing. 

A few minutes later, Zoe stuck her head into the cargo bay. 

"Sir, whenever you're hungry, I made some grub for us." 

"Not hungry, Zoe," came the answer. 

"Mom's fish stew, sir. Smelling exceptionally good, if I do say so myself." 

"I've got more work to do here, Zoe. Why don't you go ahead?" 

Zoe considered. That was Mal-speak for GO AWAY. "Fine, sir. Whenever you want it, it'll be waiting for you in the galley," she said with a sigh. 

No answer. Not a good sign. 

She closed the door. She leaned on it and thought. After a moment's hesitation, she headed for the control room. From what Zoe had seen, Wash was a big fan of ham and cheese sandwiches. She hoped he was tired of them by now. 

When she reached the control room, Wash was under the control panel, cursing. "I've got food in the galley," she mumbled to Wash's shoes, which was the only part of him that she could see. 

The cursing stopped. Wash crawled out from under the console and stared at her for a long moment, as if wondering whether to believe her. "You want to ... feed me?" 

Zoe suppressed a smile. "Yes. Gotta keep the pilot fed. Is that a problem?" 

Wash entered the galley at a half-run. As he sniffed the air, he slowed down. 

"Zoe, did you... cook? You didn't tell me you knew how to cook! Now you are a complete woman in my eyes," said Wash delightedly. 

"Don't get excited. All soldiers know how to cook. How do you know you'll like it? You haven't tasted it," said Zoe smiling. 

Wash smiled back. "Whatever you cook, I like it already. And... you should do that more often," he said. 

"What?" she asked, although she half knew the answer. 

"Smile. At me," came Wash's heartfelt answer. 

In response, Zoe handed him a bowl of stew. 

* * *

Later that night, Zoe found herself in the sick bay, looking for a bottle of aspirin. She was sure she didn't need the aspirin, she felt fine, but somehow, finding it was important. 

When she finally located it, it was on the highest shelf of the tallest cabinet, way in the back. She lunged after it, but it was too far away. Even the use of a nearby stepstool wasn't enough. Zoe sighed and, carefully putting her feet into the lower shelves, climbed into the cabinet. 

As she crawled towards the aspirin bottle, it seemed to get farther and farther away. But she needed that aspirin, so she kept crawling. It seemed so far away. Suddenly, she realized that the floor she was crawling on was made of wood. She looked up and saw she was in a dark, cavernous house. She got to her feet. 

She walked through a doorway and into the barracks where she and Mal had been taken after Serenity Valley. The floor crunched under her feet. The wood was rotten. 

"Did you find that aspirin yet?" said a man's voice. 

Zoe felt warm hands on her waist and shoulders that turned her around. Wash was there, smiling at her. His arms tightened around her and he laughed into her ear. 

"Don't want to take your medicine, do you?" he chuckled. "Don't know what's good for you." 

She was going to protest, but he put one hand on her chin and in the next moment, kissed her. At that moment, the rotting floor gave way and they fell silently through the blackness together. 

Zoe sat bolt upright in the darkness of Serenity, shaking. She could still feel the kiss on her lips. When she could control her limbs again, she reached for her clothes. 

* * *

Zoe was about before the sun rose. She climbed into the galley and absently stirred together her morning coffee, then headed outside with the binoculars. 

Once outside, her feet brought her, though she didn't know how, inexorably to the garden. As she neared it, she could see a figure bending over the plants. As she neared the figure, she could see that it wasn't Mal. 

Wash straightened up, a bucket of water in his hands, his blue eyes sparkling. "Why, it's the lovely Zoe, as I live and breathe," he said, doffing his cap. "And what is our own Tien Hou doing up so early, I ask myself?" asked Wash. 

Zoe took a deep breath to slow down her heart. "Why do you keep calling me that?" 

"What? Tien Hou?" asked Wash. He put the bucket down and started gesturing with his arms in that funny, grandiose way of his. "I call you that because you are like Tien Hou; a veritable Empress of Heaven, a goddess of the sea and sky and protector of pirates, like myself. And, I might add, you are also the most beautiful woman I have ever met who actually stuck her hands down my pants." 

He paused and took a deep breath, for courage. "But you're also like the Queen of Heaven, because she only had soldiers and generals for company. That doesn't seem right to me. A woman like you, all alone. Are you lonely, Zoe? " 

Zoe's hand, which was in the act of lifting the binoculars to her eyes, stopped dead in its tracks. It started to tremble, ever so slightly. She lowered the hand again. 

"What I feel is no business of yours... understood?" she said in a low voice. She didn't wait for an answer, but walked quickly back inside. Wash watched her go. Why was it he could never fall in love with simple women? Why did he did he have to fall in love with an embittered Amazon with a death wish? He chuckled a little, since the answer was so obvious. He had fallen in love with Zoe, because she needed him to. His only problem was that she didn't realize it yet. He shook his head and picked up the bucket again. 

Once inside, Zoe circled the Galley, upset. Mal, entering the room for breakfast, only needed a glance to determine the problem. 

"What did he do this time, Zoe?" 

Zoe's pacing intensified. "He called me... beautiful!" she spat. She flung herself into the nearest chair, her head in her hands. 

It wasn't what Mal had expected. He sat down next to her. "Huh. Beautiful." There was a long silence and then he added, clearing this throat, "And is that ... you know, bad?" 

Zoe looked up at him. He thought he knew her as well as he knew himself. They had been to war together. But now she astonished him. He put his arm around her shoulders. 

"Girl, why are you crying?" he asked. "If you don't want to be beautiful, I'll call you ugly..." 

Zoe was having difficulty speaking. "He called me a goddess. And then...then he said that I was lonely..." She broke down again. 

"Well," said Mal, trying to think of something helpful to say, "It sounds like he's right fond of you, don't it? That's not a bad thing, is it?" 

Zoe looked at him with such naked emotion on her face that he felt a sudden chill go through him. "I can't fall in love. I can't take the chance of losing it again." 

So that was it. Zoe's lover had died early on in the battle for Serenity Valley. Becca had been killed in the one of the innumerable strafing runs. By the time the ships had gotten finished with her, there wasn't enough to put in a shoebox. They were only sure it was her because of the little necklace that she always wore. The necklace that Zoe had given her. 

"Look, Zoe, girl, love is... good," said Mal with difficulty. Then he laughed. "Remember the times we asked ourselves, when we were freezing our asses off in the war, why we didn't get a chance to fall in love, have kids, and die in our own beds? Remember what I told you? I said it was just the times we lived in. But now, those times are over. Sounds like you got someone to make your dreams come true. Why don't you take it, huh?" 

Zoe turned to him. "Look at you. You haven't let love in." 

Mal frowned and straightened up. "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you. And I say it's about time that you took your medicine and got back to living." 

Zoe opened her mouth to answer. But at that moment, the sound of machine guns spitting bullets came to their ears. 

"Wash," Zoe gasped, and ran for the ladder. 

The local renegade gang worshipped Gong Wang, also known as the Flowery Necked Tiger. Because of that, the members tattooed tigers all over their bodies and carried a tiger banner, which was flying in the wind as they circled Serenity on horseback. They also carried traditional three-pronged weapons that looked like tridents. However, these were largely ornamental; they generally depended on guns to get the job done. It was the Kalashnikovs that were speaking now. 

Zoe stood in Serenity's entrance, looking frantically for Wash. Her heart dropped like a stone when she saw him. He was crumpled on the ground near the garden. Zoe took a bead on the closest Gong Wang with her Remington and let fly. Without waiting to see the effect, she moved on to the next target. Mal joined her shortly in the cargo bay. Within a minute, four Gong Wang lay dead or dying and the rest had taken off for places with less lead flying through the air. 

Zoe ran to Wash, her heart in her mouth. He was very still and very pale. There was blood on his forehead. She tried to find a pulse, but her fingers were shaking too hard; she couldn't locate one. She shook him. 

"Don't die!" she screamed. "You can't die!" 

Mal grabbed Zoe by the shoulder. "Zoe, he's alive. Let's get him back inside." 

* * *

He found himself walking through a posh hotel. He looked around. It looked like the hotel his grandmother had taken him to as a special treat for his tenth birthday. Wash walked slowly through the dining room. He saw his Granny at a table near the window, a cup of Chinese tea in front of her. She looked just like he remembered her. She had stubbornly refused to leave her isolated farm for the relative safety of the city, despite the presence of Alliance soldiers who were conducting slash-and-burn campaigns in the countryside. 

"That's all a lotta nonsense, child," she had said to him. "Our job's farming. People should pay attention to what they're meant to do and leave the rest alone." 

He remembered his mother, tearfully poking through the burned remains of the house for enough to bury, but in the end the coffin went into the ground empty. 

"Granny, should you be here?" asked Wash, taking a seat opposite her at the lace-covered table as he had innumerable times as a child. "I mean, aren't you dead?" 

Granny smiled that smile of hers. "Think you know everything, young pup?" 

Wash didn't understand. His Granny poured him a cup of team. He picked up the cup and looked down. The inside of the cup was black and the moon floated in it. 

In confusion, he held out the cup to her. She pointed to his chest. 

"Son, where is your shirt?" she asked. 

Wash looked down. His chest was bare. And it was bleeding. In wonderment, he put his hand to the blood. He suddenly remembered that he had left his shirt in the bedroom and he'd better get it. Wordlessly, he put down his cup and walked out of the dining room. 

His mother was cooking at the stove. She looked tired, as usual. She was still wearing her working clothes. Gesturing at Wash's hands, she said, "Son, get washed up. Dinner's almost ready." 

Wash sat down at the table with his mother. The blood from his chest spread out over the dinner table. His mother set his filled plate in front of him. He looked down. It was filled with inky blackness and dotted with stars. 

He looked up but his mother was gone. He was standing in the desert. It was nearly dark. He looked around. Zoe was standing watch nearby, still as a statue. Her face was in shadow. He walked towards her. "Hi honey," he said. "What's for dinner?" He looked at her face. There was deepest blackness where her face should have been. 

"They're coming," she said. 

The tigers walked on their hind legs and carried large hammers slung over their backs. In slow motion and with great deliberation, they took turns hitting him in the head. He saw that one of the tigers had Zoe's eyes. Then it fell on him. It got hard to breathe. 

Wash awoke, gasping for air. For a moment, he felt panic. Then he realized that there was something sitting on his chest. With great difficulty, he put out his hands to push it away... and his hands encountered hair. He focused his eyes and after a few moments, he realized that he was looking at Zoe's hair, spread over his chest. 

Her face was turned towards him. She was asleep, her arms around him protectively. 

* * *

Later, long after the sun had set, Mal walked wearily to the galley. He had just finished burying the last of the Gong Wang. It wasn't to his taste to let men rot under the desert sun. 

The galley was empty. He rummaged around and settled on a slightly stale ham and cheese sandwich he found in a corner of the pantry. Munching on the sandwich, he made his way to the sick bay. And what he saw there stopped him in mid-chew. 

Wash was awake on the treatment table. Lying on top of him, her head on his chest was Zoe. Fast asleep. 

When Wash saw Mal, he raised a finger to his lips in warning. 

Mal bent down to look at Zoe. Her features were calm, angelic. Her lips were curved in a small smile. 

"So what did you do, hit her with a sledgehammer?" whispered Mal, mystified. 

Wash looked at Mal. "I made her smile," he said. 

Mal thought a moment. "That's all? No kissing? Zoe was always big on kissing," said Mal. Wash stiffened. "Not that I ever personally... you know ..." 

"Kissed her?" asked Wash, a mite too loud. 

Zoe sat up quickly. "Something wrong, sir?" 

"No... no, Zoe, nothing wrong. Come to check on our pilot is all. Looks like he's doing fine after that hit on the head and that flesh wound to the chest. Uh..." Mal ran out of things to say. "Good night, then." 

"Good night, sir," said Zoe. 

When Mal had left, Zoe turned to Wash. "How are you feeling?" she asked. 

"Wonderful. Really. I mean, for having tigers trying to knock my head in," came the reply. 

Wash chuckled at Zoe's worried expression. "It's a long story. My brains are fine; not scrambled at all." 

Zoe looked at the wall clock. 3AM. "Well, I'm going to bed. I'll be back in a couple of hours to check on you." 

Wash grabbed her arm. "Should you be leaving me alone? What if I have a relapse when you're not here? Pilots don't grow on trees, you know." 

Zoe sighed. "You're not going to let me out of this infirmary, are you?" 

"No way. You're spending the night with me." 

"Fine. But I'm spending it in the bed over here." 

"Suit yourself. You have no idea what you're missing." 

Zoe smiled at the ceiling as she settled into the other infirmary bunk. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea what I'm turning down. And by the way... I've seen better." After surveying Wash's hurt expression, she smiled and muttered to herself, "... on a bull." 

She pulled a blanket over herself, sighed once and was fast asleep. 

1 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title:   **Spring Planting**   
Author:   **Ruby2**   
Details:   **Standalone**  |  **PG**  |  **gen**  |  **24k**  |  **04/24/04**   
Characters:  Malcolm, Zoe, Wash   
Summary:  Ever wonder how Zoe and Wash met?   
  



End file.
